he whole. I am learning a little about London, and some things about
myself. They are both most interesting subjects."

"Well, I don't like it," Miss Cavendish declared helplessly. "When I
think of those suppers and the flowers, I feel--I feel like a robber."

"Don't," begged Carroll. "I am really the most happy of men--that is, as
the chap says in the play, I would be if I wasn't so damned miserable.
But I owe no man a penny and I have assets--I have L80 to last me
through the winter and two marvellous plays; and I love, next to
yourself, the most wonderful woman God ever made. That's enough."

"But I thought you made such a lot of money by writing?" asked Miss
Cavendish.

"I do--that is, I could," answered Carroll, "if I wrote the things that
sell; but I keep on writing plays that won't."

"And such plays!" exclaimed Marion, warmly; "and to think that they are
going begging." She continued indignantly, "I can't imagine what the
managers do want."

"I know what they don't want," said the American. Miss Cavendish drummed
impatiently on the tea-tray.

"I wish you wouldn't be so abject about it," she said. "If I were a man
I'd make them take those plays."

"How?" asked the American; "with a gun?"

"Well, I'd keep at it until they read them," declared Marion. "I'd sit
on their front steps all night and I'd follow them in cabs, and I'd lie
in wait for them at the stage-door. I'd just make them take them."

Carroll sighed and stared at the ceiling. "I guess I'll give up and go
home," he said.

"Oh, yes, do, run away before you are beaten," said Miss Cavendish,
scornfully. "Why, you can't go now. Everybody will be back in town soon,
and there are a lot of new plays coming on, and some of them are sure
to be failures, and that's our chance. You rush in with your piece and
somebody may take it sooner than close the theatre."

"I'm thinking of closing the theatre myself," said Carroll. "What's the
use of my hanging on here?" he exclaimed. "It distresses Helen to know I
am in London, feeling about her as I do--and the Lord only knows how it
distresses me. And, maybe, if I went away," he said, consciously, "she
might miss me. She might see the difference."

Miss Cavendish held herself erect and pressed her lips together with a
severe smile. "If Helen Cabot doesn't see the difference between you
and the other men she knows now," she said, "I doubt if she ever will.
Besides--" she continued, and then hesitated. "Well,